The Wild Dog
by LoliTurk
Summary: "The Wild Dog" By Frank Fontaine. "I want to take the ears off but, I can't. I scream...And when I scream it never makes a sound..." One-sided Jacktaine Non-con


Saved Little Sisters ran around his feet, excited that their loving father would be home from work soon. The brunette Emily tugged on Atlas' discolored jeans and offered to help him fix dinner, the Irishman smiled and asked her to set the table.

Frank Fontaine wanted to scream, surely this was the lowest level of hell possible. His eyes caught his reflection in the windowpane; his face was twisted into an eternal expression of happiness despite the sheer, unrelenting agony he felt.

_When the bitch Tenebaum saw him like this she laughed and mocked him, saying that this was divine punishment for all the evil Fontaine had committed in his life. How poetic it was for a con-man to be trapped inside his web of lies, forced to wear the painted mask of Atlas until the day death took him. She would play dumb for Jack, acting like she can't hear Fontaine desperately clawing at the bloodied flesh inside his skull trying to break free. She would be happy for the two of them, living the American dream with the family they had created._

_But it was Jack's dream, his perfect life, not Fontaine's. The little house in suburbia, the white picket fence, the nine-to-five job, even the happy family waiting for him was all Jack had dreamed about during the violence of Rapture. He was so happy when Andrew Ryan was dead at his feet, the broken putter in his hands was like a trophy. The battle was over and now they could escape the sunken city and be free. Jack wiped his gore-covered hands on his slacks and turned on the shortwave radio with a feeling of eager anticipation, Atlas would be so proud of him! The device crackled to life and his heart swelled at his idol's voice, joy turned to devastation as the man laughed and the truth was revealed. There was no 'Atlas', only Frank._

_The child trapped in an adult's body clutched the radio to his aching chest, heavy with the realization everything he had believed in was only a cruel joke. Jack had crossed all of Rapture to corner Fontaine in own office with tears streaking his face, demanding 'Why?'_

"_I-I trusted you, I loved you…Why…?" He wiped the trail of snot running down his face with an already badly stained sleeve. _

_The mobster glanced uncaringly in his direction and poured himself another glass of scotch."That's why you're an idiot, albeit a useful one. You're just like one o' those pretty girls hangin' around Fort Frolic, you fall head over heels for the first guy who calls her 'sweetie' and cries all night when he leaves when her cherry's popped."Fontaine added another piece of ice to the drink, brushing a lock of blonde hair out of his face. He wanted to get out of this disguise as soon as possible and return to his usual handsome self._

"_You're wrong! Atlas wouldn't leave me, he's a good person…He's kind and caring and would never hurt anyone!"Jack sobbed. _

_Frank signed and rolled his eyes, this was getting old. He put his hand on his puppet's shoulder "Look kid, I'll spell it out for ya: there is no Atlas, not now, not ever. Understand? Now take your queer 'lovey-dovey' bullshit to someone who gives a damn, I have a city to run."_

_Jack lost his mind and lunged himself at the mobster, full force. Large hands gripped Fontaine's head as they fell backwards, Frank cracked his skull on the mahogany desk on the way down and it was a miracle his neck didn't break. Unconsciously, Jack's hypnosis plasmid snapped Fontaine's mind like a twig._

_The mobster woke up hours later, bandaged and unable to control his movement. He opened his mouth yell at the idiot watching over him and was horrified with what left his lips. _

"…_Boyo? What happened to you? You look like someone died." His was dripping with an Irish accent and full of concern for the brunette. Jack was overjoyed with the return of his idol "Is that really you, Atlas?" he asked hopefully._

"_Of course it's me, Jackie-boy. Who else would put up with your shenanigans?"_

_Jack confessed his undying love between kisses that the Irishman happily returned. In the brunette's eyes, they made love for the first time pressed against the cold, hard glass overlooking the utopia. _

_For Fontaine, it was nothing but mind-control assisted rape. He was barely over five feet tall and Jack was six-foot-two and was designed to be as strong as an ox, the mobster could probably do little to stop it from happing even without hypnosis. To add insult to injury Jack, being only three years old, knew little to nothing about sex especially with someone of the same gender. So here was Atlas, guiding him through his own rape with a smile._

_Fontaine nearly threw up when he realized what he was going to do as Atlas got down his knees. Words couldn't describe how revolting it was to suck off a fellow man like a giant ice cream cone with his 'vanilla' dripping. _

_It only got worse from there when his bare chest was pressed to the near-frigid window with his overalls pooled at his ankles. Atlas' hot breath fogged the glass as he cried out on pleasure while Fontaine screamed in pain. When it was over, Jack was as cheerful as a blushing bride._

Strong arms encircled Atlas' waist from behind, "Did you miss me honey?" Jack whispered hotly into his ear.

"Of course I did, Jack." He purred in response and Fontaine was going to be sick. He didn't know how much longer he could take the 'happy newlywed' bullshit and not go insane.

Three little girls drew their father away from 'mommy' to play but not without a peck on the Irishman's cheek.

Frank turned back to his reflection, silently fearing what would happen when the lights were turned off.

He tasted the stew and added a little salt, thinking of how easy it would be to grab something from under the sink and poison all the little fuckers. Fontaine could see it now, he'd set the pan down at the table and they would chow down like the hungry animals they were. He would excuse himself, saying that he forgot to put the peach pie in the oven. After the noise died down good ol' Frank Fontaine would cash out boyo's bank account and be back in business before the week's out.

He set the wooden spoon down on the counter and calmly walked over to the sink, sparing a look to see 'Papa Bear' offer another cup of tea to an overstuffed rabbit. The mobster opened the cabinet door and cried inside, Fontaine could not bring himself to touch the bottles.

Instead he went back to the stew and added some pepper, muttering a poem he had heard once in Rapture and replacing the lyrics he couldn't recall.

"_I want to take the ears off but, I can't. I scream and when I scream it never makes a sound…"_


End file.
